My Own Prison
by Redaura
Summary: One off. Sarah's got Jareth on the brain, but after some angony aunt advice manages to remove jareth, but not from her brain, with yet more consequences.


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Disclaimer: I disclaim Labyrinth to Jim Henderson and co; the song lyrics to `My Own Prison' by Creed; the lyrics to `Ironic' by Alanis Morissette. I got the technique for letting past loves die from the Internet. Somewhere…   
  
**An:** I was thinking of the being as being on a film, the opening titles, with voice reading the letters out. Perhaps the dim shape of them writing... I don't know if it works. Please review and leave any   
advise/criticism that you wish, though please don't be too harsh.  


  
~*~  
  
**My Own Prison**  
By Redaura  
  
~*~  
  
An old man turned ninety-eight  
He won the lottery and died the next day  
It's a black fly in your Chardonnay  
It's a death row pardon two minutes too late  
Isn't it ironic... don't you think

  
Chorus: It's like rain on your wedding day  
It's a free ride when you've already paid  
It's the good advice that you just didn't take  
Who would've thought... it figures

  
~*~

  
  
_Dear Caroline,  
  
I'm sixteen now. Last summer I meet this man. We where only in contact for thirteen hours but I'm in love with him. And he doesn't love me. He can't love me, after what I've done - thrown everything he'd done for me in his face. And the fact is I'll never see him again, but I can't get him out of my head. It's driving me insane. Whenever I close my eyes his face is there, when I sleep, he's there. It's getting in the way of my life. What can I do? My stepmother (when she's not ignoring me or getting me to baby-sit) is worried. She feels I should have more dates, but how can I date with his face in my minds eye? The way he looks overrules all of the boys I ever meet, which I don't suppose is hard, as he is older than I am.  
  
I am trying to forget him, I really am. I know it's pathetic mooning after him, and I need to be living my life, not living regret. But I just don't know how to go about it. I'm told that time will heal it (by people who don't know why I'm `depressed') and I can't tell them why I am down. They wouldn't understand.   
  
Obsessed and in love_

  
  
~*~

  
Mr. Play It Safe was afraid to fly  
He packed his suitcase and kissed his kids good-bye  
He waited his whole damn life to take that flight  
And as the plane crashed down he thought  
"Well, isn't this nice." And isn't this ironic ... don't you think?

  
Chorus: It's like rain on your wedding day  
It's a free ride when you've already paid  
It's the good advice that you just didn't take  
Who would've thought... it figures

  
~*~_  
_

  
Dear Obsessed and in love  
  
I'm sorry to hear this. I think you are absolutely correct in your idea of letting go, especially considering the age issue. There is nothing wrong with having older partners, however one should consider that he probably wouldn't have been suitable. How much older was he than you were? Would he have been trying to live his life through you? Was there a good reason why he couldn't find a person more of his age group? And are you really in love? I know that telling the difference between infatuation and love is hard at such a young age. You could have loved an ideal of this man, who as you have stated I presume handsome to your eyes, and more sophisticated than boys of your age and presumably would contain more charm, and mystery. Since you are trying to `forget' or at least try and ease the bad memories and remember the happier moments of time together I have listed below some suggestions to try and achieve this:   
  
- Learn to meditate. Every time you find yourself thinking of him, think of something else important to you. You mentioned baby-sitting? Do you have a brother? Sister? Family pet? Lesson at school? A good book?  
- This one might sound harsh, but do you have an image of this man? If so, I've often found it advisable to stick the picture to an unneeded pillow (remind yourself it's unneeded) get a kitchen knife and slash and cut that picture to kingdom come. After BURN it all, and repeat to yourself that you are letting go. This is a Wicca technique, so I am asking you to not concentrate on burning him. And remember basic fire safety please.  


  
Hope this helps,  
  
Love Caroline.  


  
~*~

  
Well life has a funny way of sneaking up on you  
When you think everything's okay and everything's going right  
And life has a funny way of helping you out when  
You think everything's gone wrong and everything blows up  
In your face

  
A traffic jam when you're already late  
A no-smoking sign on your cigarette break  
It's like 10,000 spoons when all you need is a knife  
It's meeting the man of my dreams  
and then meeting his beautiful wife  
And isn't it ironic... don't you think  
A little too ironic... And yeah I really do think...

  
~*~

  
The tears ran, startlingly hot down her cold, ice cheeks. The drops of water where the only expression, sparkling in her eyes, bejewelling her lashes. Her hands shook, clenching the doll so hard her knuckles were shining white, and her tendons stuck out like ropes. No, she didn't have a picture, but she had this doll of him. The plastic was squishing under her gripping fingers. Nothing more than a doll, but metaphorically…   
  
She'd had to wait till the weather had cleared up, stopped raining but it meant the ground was damp, so no chance of her setting fire to the entire park, like she would have done in the summer, when she'd received her reply. That had been her excuse then. Now the only thing holding her back was herself, hesitating and waiting, just hoping that the weather would play into her desires as she `searched' for the figure in her draws.   
  
But all that was past now. She was sixteen and six months. Tonight it would be hers and his one-year anniversary. The perfect time to burn his memory and forget, too move on. With trembling hands she sparked the lighter, having to try several times before the flame held, quivering in the wind. She put it to his boots, those high heel boots, so in fashion at the time. Did he change fashions in connection with the mortal world? Was he only fulfilling what she had wanted? She stared at the dolls face; its painted features only a mirror of his arrogance. Had he merely been mimicking her doll? Had she place him in her doll in her expectations?   
  
And his boots weren't burning. Only a wisp of smoke was being ripped away by the wind, and not a bit it of it was from the statue.   
  
Time for plan B.   
  
She carefully placed the doll on the muddy ground, in a crudely drawn circle of salt. Salt for Fairies see? Sarah hadn't stop reading fantasy stories; she'd just stopped trying to live them, to be through them. She unslung her bag off her back and pulled out the gasoline. She poured it liberally over him, his replica clothing and face now covered in rainbow glistening slime. Hesitantly she held the lighter to the outer part of the circle, and forced herself to light it, before she thought anymore about this, before she backed out.   
  
The flame flickered at the edge, waiting… waiting… Until… WHOSH! She jumped back with a startled cry, the hairs on the back of her hand singed, the entirety of the circle ablaze. The smell of singed hair assaulted her nostrils, along with burning plastic, and burning flesh…  
  
It's your imagination. Just your imagination. He's not really in that doll. Just a metaphor to clear your mind.  
  
And she almost believed it.   
  
She stood and watched, until it was just a flickering of embers under the darkening sky. A growl of thunder, a whining dog.   
  
And Sarah Williams let go, leaving the charred remains for the upcoming storm to deal with, starting to run home as the clock struck seven, and the rain began to pour. She felt light… giddy… Free!

  
  
~*~  
  
Chorus: It's like rain on your wedding day  
It's a free ride when you've already paid  
It's the good advice that you just didn't take  
Who would've thought... it figures  
  
~*~  
  
A court is in session, a verdict is in  
No appeal on the docket today  
Just my own sin  
The walls are cold and pale  
The cage made of steel  
  
~*~

  
  
The sunlight had been rolling lazily through the high, tall windows all day. It cast beams of light through the air, thick with dust stirred by the frolicking Goblins around. They where conducted into lines, assembled into order, but the King wasn't interested at that moment.  
  
He gazed out of the window, at his still mighty, yet beaten once Labyrinth, golden in the glow of the fading light. Dark was oncoming. He was preoccupied, and the Goblins dared not intrude upon his thoughts. Bad temper of being beaten now had prevailed into periods of sitting, brooding, waiting, of own mental torture.

  
She had been young; she would grow older, fast. Just that little hope that nagged him in the long, cold, lonely nights.   
  
But that was foolish. She hadn't recognised, or acknowledged a single thing he had done for her, ignorant as she was of Faery etiquette, and barely knowing any mortal manners.   
  
He had been and watched her. And it had tugged at his heart, too see her defiance melt into acceptance, her quiet features far away and dreaming, like he did. Like he was now. But still, she was young, and his pride was all he had left, that and bittersweet memories tainted by long, old regrets. The price of Age. The consequence of being the one that lived.   


And the Goblins piped down, and the Labyrinth ceased it's restless shifting to let the King dream. And when he was angry, the weather was violent, and the throne room was emptied, to just him and his rage, more violent, more black, since he'd been beaten.  


And the days passed by; barely an event to distinguish one day from the next or the nights from the days until the King died.   
  
It happened thirteen years, a significant number, after he had been bested. He was gloomy, as the weather matched that Aboveground, not wanting to move, not wanting to fly, still trapped within this place. Not wanting to see what his soulmate was doing, the one so like he that if they lived together they'd surely rip each other to pieces, yet mourning her loss, as if she had been his.  
  
His boots melted. He thought nothing of it. Stranger things happened. He ordered the Labyrinth to behave, of which it sulked, as well as a mass of gnarly ground could. But then the feeling, of sitting in the windowsill of his throne room, the room dark and vast behind him, lighting faint and pale against the largeness of it all and felt it build in him. An inferno, fire and hate burning from passion as he fell into the mud. He was lying on his back staring at the shadowed ceiling, seeing every detail with his immortal eyes, and seeing the mortal, weeping sky in a dizzying illusion, images of his skies stars, and her stars shining coldly down on them.   


And the peek was reached, his skin flew apart as he screamed in pain, and his ashes filled the room, before slowly winding their way through the air, to settle on the ground.  
  
The storm raged on, the Labyrinth had no master. She was anyone's land and her peoples where anyone's meat with no protection. A heavy darkness of dread settled over the land, no one was safe, the Labyrinth with out its monarchy did not have to power to hold back the hordes of Unseelie and Seelie that ate away at the borders, and slaughtered the people.   
  
A cloud of perpetual gloom and horror hung over the inhabitants, until it was decided that something must be done… Something, in fact someone must be brought back to save them.  


  
  
~*~  
  
Screams fill the room  
Alone I drop and kneel  
Silence now the sound  
My breath the only motion around  
Demons cluttering around  
My face showing no emotion  
Shackled by my sentence  
Expecting no return  
  
~*~

  
  
She was lying her back, staring at her dusty, plastered ceiling when Hoggle clambered stiffly through her tiny mirror on the wall. She didn't move or acknowledge his coughing. Hoggles' layer of ice in his stomach grew barbs. She didn't remember them…  
  
"How long…" She was still staring at the ceiling, as though it held wonders beyond mortal, or immortal comprehension. And in a way it did… but only in her mind. "… Has he been dead?"  
  
Hoggle was stunned. How could she have known…? She wouldn't have…? "Five years… Underground time…"  
  
"And here time?"  
  
Hoggles face contorted… "Five years…" He whispered.  
  
Her face muscles shifted, a grimace of a smile. Sweetly ironic, bitter poetry. She had a number. "And what is happening in the Underground?"  
  
"It terrible! We're all dying… We need… we need a king…"  
  
"Or a queen?" And her voice was clam, matter of fact, contrasting to his panicked tone.   
  
"Yes… Or a queen…"  
  
And it was only fair, having killed him, having freed him from his prison, she had only created her own in his mould. 

  
  
~*~  
  
Here there is no penance  
My skin begins to burn  
So I held my head up high  
Hiding hate that burns inside  
Which only fuels their selfish pride  
We're all held captive  
Out from the sun  
A sun that shines on only some  
We the meek are all in one  
  
~*~

  
  
The sun streams through the windows, dust swirls lazily through, creating sunbeams. Goblins play, quiet and neatly as Goblins can on the floor. Their Queen has more or less given up on them, but still, habits are hard to break, and she has eternity with them. Her hair is braided around her head, creating a crown of rich, dark brown. Her dress is simple, yet elegant, and very sensual, for she is Fae, and has to acknowledge their customs.   
  
She stares out of the window, and dreams of flying, out of her prison protecting her subjects and her land, alone. And every five years… She thinks of what could have been.

  
~*~  
  
I hear a thunder in the distance  
See a vision of a cross  
I feel the pain that was given  
On that sad day of loss  
A lion roars in the darkness  
Only he holds the key  
A light to free me from my burden  
And grant me life eternally  
Should have been dead  
On a Sunday morning  
Banging my head  
No time for mourning  
Ain't got no time  
So I held my head up high  
Hiding hate that burns inside  
Which only fuels their selfish pride  
We're all held captive  
Out from the sun  
A sun that shines on only some  
We the meek are all in one  
I cry out to God  
Seeking only his decision  
Gabriel stands and confirms  
I've created my own prison  
  
~*~  
  
**THE END**  
  
  
  
  



End file.
